Bernadette

Bernadette, a devout Catholic, is an abortion escort at Planned Parenthood in New Mexico.

“When I'm asked ‘how can you be a Catholic and be pro-choice,’ I tell them, ‘I got my free will from God and the church doesn't own my conscience.’”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

Bernadette has been an abortion clinic escort at Planned Parenthood in Albuquerque, New Mexico, for five years. She’s also a devout Catholic. For her, walking beside women as they make the decision to end a pregnancy does not conflict with her faith. “As a Catholic,” she says, “I've always been brought up to care about social justice and I think this is a social justice issue.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

About five years ago, Bernadette campaigned against a bill in New Mexico to outlaw abortion after 20 weeks. But she wanted to do more, so she signed up to volunteer with Planned Parenthood.
The 71-year-old arrives each Tuesday morning to get ready to walk women into the clinic. It’s a job with an element of risk. In November 2015, a man opened fire at a Planned Parenthood in Colorado. Three people were killed, and nine injured. Since then, clinics have stepped up security. “When I first started, it was just plain clothes,” Bernadette remembers. “Now I have to wear a bulletproof vest.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

Women come to the Planned Parenthood clinic from across the city and from other states to get abortion services. In 2014, women from out of state made up about 20 percent of those who obtained abortions in New Mexico, according to state data. “Because they closed a lot of those clinics in Texas, we get a lot of people from Texas coming,” says Bernadette.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

Protesters regularly gather outside the gates, reading Bible verses, holding up signs and offering to help women with rent, food, and medical expenses if they decide to forgo an abortion. One day, some protesters began to call Bernadette out by name, telling her what she did was shameful. “It freaked me out the first time they called me by my name,” says Bernadette. “I tried not to show I was freaked out, but I was.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

The Catholic community in Albuquerque is small enough that Bernadette has encountered protesters beyond the clinic parking lot. “One time I went to mass and one of the protesters was there,” she says. “He saw me as I went up to holy communion. On Tuesday at the clinic he came up to me and pointed his finger in my face. He accused me of committing sacrilege because I had dared to receive holy communion and then stand here and kill babies.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

When women pull into the Planned Parenthood parking lot, Bernadette is often the first person they see. “I can't say I enjoy doing it because I don't know if that's the proper word, but I'm glad I'm there,” says Bernadette. “A lot of times the women will thank me for being there. That means a lot. Then there's times when they think I'm on the other side and they'll tell me, ‘Don't talk to me, don't come near me, I don't want to talk to you.’ It's like, ‘Wait, I'm on your side, I'm an escort, I want to help you.’ It’s okay then.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

Bernadette uses a large black umbrella to screen women from protesters, who often stand on ladders to shout at women across the parking lot.
“It's kind of hard to shield them from that because the protesters are right there and they're telling them stuff,” says Bernadette. “‘Shut up,’ I just want to yell at them. When it's the men, it's like, ‘you will never have to walk in those shoes so don't tell her what to do.’ That's what upsets me the most.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

States across the country have seen a reduction in abortion services in recent years as states have cut funding and passed stricter requirements for clinics. As of 2014, 90 percent of the counties in the United States had no clinic providing abortion services, according to the Guttmacher Institute. That means about 40 percent of women in the U.S. would have to travel to a different county to obtain an abortion.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

“It really upsets me that the way it's presented is as if women cannot make decisions on their own,” says Bernadette. “It's not an easy decision. They don't get up in the morning and say, ‘Well, after breakfast I'm going to go have an abortion.’ It's a long process and when they come to the clinic and there are these protesters outside the fence saying things to them that are, to me, totally disrespectful and pretty hateful, they're not helping. If I can shield a little bit, just be there, that for me is important.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

Bernadette grew up in a conservative Mexican-American family in Taos, where a woman’s role was as a mother, as a wife, and in the home.
“I was brought up back in the 50s and the 60s when women didn't do much of anything,” says Bernadette. “I remember seeing women come into the bank and say, ‘I'm Mrs. Frank Smith.’ We didn't even have our own names. I have to admit that back then I was kind of naïve about a heck of a lot of things. I don't know what awakened me.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

Bernadette was married for 10 years, during which time she gave birth to three children. “I was not the person I am now,” she says. When her marriage ended in divorce, she found herself a single mother.
“I think once I realized I was on my own and that my ex-husband wasn't going to help me, I had to grow up. I've raised my three children pretty much on my own, and they've turned out to be good adults. I sometimes wonder how because there wasn't a whole lot of money and it was just me and I had to leave them and go to work. We went through a lot.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY Isadora Kosofsky

Bernadette remains deeply faithful. She says the rosary at home, and attends Catholic mass every Sunday.
For Bernadette, her faith and her activism are not a contradiction. “Why can't I be pro-choice and be a Catholic?” she says. “It's a matter of conscience. When I'm asked ‘How can you be a Catholic and be pro-choice,’ well, first of all, I got my free will from God and the church doesn't own my conscience. That's why. God gave me a mind to use, and that's why I can be both.”